Capturing the Viscount Read online

  Very slowly, Rem opened the door she had gone through and stepped out into a gilded moonlit scene. The cherry blossoms were just beginning to bloom, and the air smelled of the young and fragile roses that climbed the many trellises on the glass walls of the conservatory. Everything was edged in silver and shadows. Why had he never come out here in the moonlight? It was quite surreal. The girl was nowhere to be seen, but a rustling sound came from behind an orange tree to his left. Then a voice could be heard, though he couldn't make out exactly what it was saying. He made his way toward the sounds, carefully avoiding disturbing any plants along the way.

  When he emerged into the alcove of cherry trees, he wasn't sure what to make of what he saw. The girl was hunched over, attending to some kind of box supported by three wooden legs. She was muttering to herself, intent on looking through the eyepiece of the apparatus while adjusting little knobs on its side. She had it aimed at a white stone bench about seven feet away and kept looking up at it, then readjusting her mechanism.

  "Just so. That will do quite nicely. Oh, this will be perfect," she was saying to no one in particular.

  After watching for a few moments, Remington had to admit that he still had no idea what was going on. While it became clear she wasn't meeting anyone here, she seemed very excited by whatever she was up to. After making some final tweaks to her machine, she depressed a button, which made a popping sound, and then went over to the bench and sat gracefully down on it. She arranged her skirts and laid her hands in her lap, serenely staring at the box with a soft smile on her delicate face.

  And then all was still.

  Rem stood in the shadows, loathe to break the spell of whatever magic she wove in this garden of night. She really was hauntingly beautiful, with large eyes that pooled light in them and a sensuous mouth that begged for kissing. Her cheekbones created slight hollows that continued into an adorable pixie of a chin. And her hair. He imagined taking a strategic pin out of its mass so that it flooded down in a golden cascade around her shoulders and breasts. She looked like a fallen angel, sitting there, so temptingly lush and elegant at the same time. Her curves were deliciously obvious in the gown she wore, made all the more alluring by the shadows created in the moonlight. She was remarkably still. A more patient person, he wasn't sure he had ever met.

  Or perhaps she was simply crazy. Maybe that was why her parents had kept her buried in the country until now. She didn't have the look of a loony, but Rem supposed one could never tell. There was something so peaceful and yet thrilling about her expression. It was as if she knew that if she held still for long enough, a fairy would come fluttering out of the blossoms and sit in her hand.

  Rem watched her for what seemed like millennia. She never moved, hardly even blinking in the serene world only she could be a part of. He didn't want to interrupt her reverie, or whatever it was, but he found himself aching to go to her, to take her in his arms and become part of her fantasy scene. Eventually, his body must have followed his mind's inclination, for the branches near him crackled as he moved forward from the darkness.

  The woman on the bench started and gasped as he emerged. Rem could see her muscles clench as she prepared for flight. Her wide eyes settled on him, at first in fear, then in consternation. Small fists clenched at her sides, she rose from the bench, her face flushing in fury.

  "Just what do you think you're doing, sir?"

  Rem hadn't expected such a vehement reaction. It broke him of the spell he had been under, but her anger was so charming, he felt himself falling under another one just as swiftly. "I was going to ask you the same thing," Rem countered, raising a brow. He walked slowly towards her, and she did not back away, which he found immensely satisfying as he advanced on her. He smiled, a smile that he had been assured created pools of molten heat in the most coldly disposed of women.

  "I was- I was-" She seemed to be floundering for words, whether from the effects of his smile or a reluctance to admit her activities, Rem didn't know.

  "Allow me," Rem intervened, coming close enough to put his hands on her upper arms. She had to look up at him, as the top of her head barely came to his chin. Her beauty was even more potent up close, which must have been the reason for his recklessness. "You were waiting for someone to set you free from your enchantment," he murmured, bringing his face closer so that his nose almost touched the tip of hers. "And though I am not a prince, I can promise I kiss well enough."

  His lips descended on hers, their plush softness opening in surprise. He felt her hands grasp his shoulders to steady herself from the unexpected onslaught. Rem took advantage and slid his tongue just inside the warmth of her mouth, tasting sweetness and fruit and cloves as she hesitantly touched her own tongue to his. Her response was a key that let loose a torrent of desire in him. He reached around her back to pull her closer, the satin of her gown sliding under his hands like water. He was lost in her, her untutored innocence, the radiant sensuality she didn't know how to hide. Rem couldn't have stopped if a herd of rampaging rhinoceroses had come barreling through the garden.

  Laura knew something very wrong was happening. Perhaps this was what her mother knew would happen if she snuck around taking pictures when she wasn't supposed to. But if this was a punishment, she wasn't sure she wanted it to stop. In fact, it felt so good that she thought she should have misbehaved more if this was the result. His muscular body felt wonderful as it surrounded her in its warmth. No man had ever held her so tightly, as if he might die if he were forced to be parted from her.

  And what he was doing with his mouth...It was her first kiss. Even through the haze of pleasure, Laura had the vague thought that this might not be a good idea for the simple reason that every other man's kiss was bound to be a disappointment after this. She couldn't seem to catch her breath. His drugging kisses wreaked havoc on her muscles and bones, turning them to jelly. Laura leaned against him, letting him support her in his crushing grip.

  The sound of the timer on her Dag clicking off snapped Laura back to reality. Tearing her lips from his, she leaned back in his embrace, eyes wide. He was smiling down at her.

  The nerve of the man!

  Laura drew her hand back and smacked it across his face for all she was worth, the slap creating a satisfying crack.

  "Ow!" Laura exclaimed. She had never slapped anyone before, but her hand stung like the dickens. She danced around, trying to quell the painful sensation.

  "What the bloody hell was that for?" the man was saying, rubbing his cheek, which had started to turn red.

  Laura composed herself and turned to face him. "You tried to seduce me!"

  "For all the good it did me. You were enjoying that kiss just as much as I was, so don't paint me as the villain," he commanded, taking a step towards her.

  "I did not! I would never- That is to say, I have never allowed such blatant-"

  "Shhh!" Rem reached for her and clamped a hand over her mouth, listening hard.

  Laura listened too. Voices were definitely headed towards them from the front of the conservatory. Panicking, Laura struggled out of his hands and dashed for her camera, breaking down the parts as quickly as she could. Rem helped, although he wasn't sure what he was doing or why. All he knew was that they should not be caught out here alone in the moonlight.

  "That! Grab that!" Laura hissed, indicating the group of wooden dowels that had held her contraption up. Her arms were already full, and she was having trouble holding onto everything at once.

  "It's no use," Rem told her, steadying her load. "I will return them to you another time."

  "But-" Laura looked painfully at the rods.

  "No buts," he insisted, shooing her along out of the clearing. Something on the ground caught his eye. A flat metallic case of some kind lay there. Laura was already scurrying away, her awkward gait causing him to smile. He picked up the card-sized case and shoved it in his pocket for later perusal. When he turned back, the woman in green had already vanished into the night with her armful of gadgetry. />
  The voices were much closer now, and he knew he couldn't escape unnoticed. Rem began to whistle and walk nonchalantly down a path in the direction of the voices. They turned out to be his footman and carriage driver looking for him to inform him his carriage was ready.

  Now that the episode had passed and the woman was out of reach, Remington felt strangely apathetic. He didn't particularly want to go to his club now, but he decided it would do him good to put the incident in perspective. He let them lead the way and prepared himself for a night of torture thinking about the golden-haired temptress who was turning out to be an irresistible mystery.

  Chapter 2

  Laura had rushed out of the conservatory and stashed her articles in a hallway cupboard to be picked up by Jonathan later. She went through the rest of the ball in a daze, and later couldn't remember a single thing she had done or said. Her mother was in high spirits as they rode home, exclaiming what a success Laura had been. But Laura didn't really care anymore. All she could think about was the heady sensation of being kissed by a handsome man she didn't even know. Who was he? And why had he been watching her in the garden instead of charming women at the ball? Her first ball had been a resounding success, and yet the excitement of that paled in comparison to the encounter she had had in the conservatory. If only she knew his name, then she would-

  Laura paused in her thoughts. She would what? Call on him and say, "If you don't mind, I would like to continue where we left off the other night." Laura groaned, causing her mother to look at her sharply.

  "Are you alright, dear? You look a bit flushed."

  "I'm fine, mama. Just sore from all the dancing."

  "I suppose that's only natural. You're not used to twirling around all night in those heeled slippers. But, oh my, you looked just gorgeous out there dancing with all those gentlemen. I daresay you'll have quite a few callers this week."

  Laura thought of the numerous gentlemen she had met during the ball. Several of them had been quite handsome; some had even been mildly entertaining. There was Trent Arberley, who had made her chuckle, but it had been at the expense of another young man. Laura wasn't sure she liked that, even though the man he had been making fun of had been ridiculous. Then there was Cameron Wainwright, a dashing officer of the fifth regiment who had regaled her with a war story she wasn't quite sure if she believed or not, as it appeared he had defeated the Chinese singlehandedly at Chusan the year before.

  Many others had sought her attention, attempting to impress her with their witty remarks, their expensive tastes, their carefully-cultivated fashion statements. To some degree, Laura had been impressed. She had never been in the middle of so much social activity. The most exciting thing to happen in the country was the annual Maypole festivities, which somehow always ended with Laura being herded home before the real fun began and the people of the village started imbibing stronger spirits.

  She was somewhat overwhelmed by the amount of voices aimed at her, not to mention the feel of hands constantly taking hers and kissing her gloved knuckles or asking for the next dance. These people moved so fast, rushing from one topic to the next, though it inevitably always came back to how beautiful she looked or how wonderful it would be to have just one dance or turn about the room with her. She had felt pulled in all directions at once, and it had been both thrilling and daunting at the same time.

  But Mama had not been wrong. No less than eighteen bouquets of flowers arrived before noon the next day. And by two o'clock, there were seven young men, all queued up in the drawing room just for a chance to speak with her and impress upon her the degree of their ardor. Laura started out optimistic, but soon found herself tiring quickly under the attention of so many eager young men. She spoke cordially to them and listened to their monologues of rapture, but knew that none of these dramatic gentlemen could possibly fit the role of husband for her. Some of them professed to love her already, at which Laura wanted to laugh. Why, they didn't even know her! She had only been face to face with these gentlemen for a few moments, both last night and today. Whenever one of them would ask her a question, it was something meaningless that didn't probe into her personality or feelings at all, but sent them into another discussion of how beautiful her neck or hands were.

  After an hour of discourse with her callers, Laura began to feel both guilty and pointedly offended at the same time. Guilty because she could only think of these men as friendly, but annoying puppies who vied for her attention and not real contenders for her hand. And yet she was offended because they clearly did not care who she was, but only cared how she would look on their arm in the park or in the family portrait gallery. Astoria was enjoying all the attention and the obvious interest her daughter had awoken in these gentlemen. There would be no help from that quarter.

  Laura was trying admirably to listen to Mr. Atwater's opine on the merits of wolfhounds versus bloodhounds, but the fact was, she already knew most of what he was telling her. Her father loved dogs, and he frequently came home from his travels with some new and interesting breed of dog he had managed to rescue, which had resulted in a quite rambunctious pack of lovable strays that Laura had spent plenty of time with while frolicking about the countryside. To her disgruntlement, Laura had been forbidden by her mother to bring her favorite pooch, Henry, with her to London for the season. But even Laura had had to admit that having a one hundred and fifty pound newfoundland romping through the drawing room might be rather inconvenient. Or, during times like these, Laura thought, perhaps a welcome interruption.

  "Bloodhounds do tend to be more useful during the last stages of a hunt, but I find I prefer wolfhounds while traveling, as they are much better at-"

  "Oh, Miss Parrington," Lord St. Laramie chimed in, tugging on her right sleeve. "Did you know that in ancient Egypt, canine genitals were thought to prevent one's hair from whitening?"

  Laura's head whipped towards his enthusiastic face of its own accord as Mr. Atwater kept talking on her left. "I beg your pardon?"

  "I said that during the height of ancient Egyptian civilization, a dog's-"

  "Yes," Laura interrupted quickly, schooling her horrified expression into something she hoped was pleasant. "I believe I heard you. I just...can't believe you repeated that fact. Here. To me."

  Laramie began to look slightly bashful, but it was an abashment that Laura could tell he was trying to be humble about while taking her comment as praise. "Well, I do have quite a fair bit of random knowledge stored up for a rainy day," he said with a timid smile.

  "Er, yes, it seems you do.

  "Miss Parrington?" Mr. Atwater attempted to regain her attention. "I do hope I've been informative on this topic, as women know so little about dog breeds." He waited for affirmation.

  Laura smiled and stared straight ahead, not daring to look at either man. "This conversation has been very informative indeed," Laura assured them. Laura was now in possession of the fact that if she were to end up with either of these two, she might very well run stark raving mad.

  Just as she was debating whether to fake a swoon from the "overwhelming heat," her father entered the room and leaned against the door. He was not an overly large man, but his sturdy build and dignified bearing commanded a presence wherever he went. In contrast to his daughter, the Earl had medium brown hair and blue eyes that twinkled now as he took in the scene. He looked at Laura and instantly understood her dilemma. Laura smiled at him in helpless entreaty. The Earl of Parrington smiled in return and immediately took control.

  "Good afternoon, my lords. I regret to inform you that Miss Parrington has an appointment that can no longer be put off."

  A chorus of protests started, but once they saw who had made the announcement, they quieted quickly.

  "I am afraid I will have to detain her for the rest of the afternoon. Lady Parrington will show you out. We have been honored with your presence today, and I am sure that my daughter has enjoyed your company." This last was said with just a hint of sarcasm that only Laura and Lady Parri
ngton noticed.

  Astoria knew when she had been overruled and graciously escorted the gentlemen to the front door while Laura was besieged with flowery farewells and promises of devotion.

  When the last of the besotted callers had had the door shut in his face, Laura finally relaxed and slumped back in her chair. Lord Parrington came over and sat beside his daughter in a nearby chair.

  "You certainly have your choice of them, don't you, dear," he said with amusement.

  "Oh, Papa, I thought this was going to be fun!" Laura exclaimed, throwing her hands over her face.

  "Don't be too harsh on them, sweetheart. I was once over the moon for a girl and behaved like an imbecile." He patted the back of her shoulder soothingly.

  Laura looked up. "But... you and Mama...?"

  "Oh yes, your mother and I are very much in love, but that happened when I was much older. When I was as young as most of those beaus of yours, I thought I was in love with half the girls I met." He chuckled. "And I suspect that when you fall in love- for real, that is- you will behave just as foolishly. It comes with the territory, my dear. So have a little mercy for them, Laura. You are a beautiful girl, inside and out. They can't help it if they see something so rare and want to claim it for themselves."

  Laura gave her father a tremulous smile. He always had a way of putting things so they made sense. He saw the good in people and never treated anyone with less than the utmost respect until they proved him wrong in his assumption. Laura loved him dearly and thought he might be her only anchor during the next few months of treacherous social waters.

  "Thank you, Papa. I feel better. I'm going to go upstairs and rest a bit before dinner."

  The Earl placed a kiss on her forehead and escorted her as far as the main stairs. His curious little girl was all grown up and having to fend off suitors. His lips rose at the corners. Apparently, Laura wasn't nearly as curious about courting as she was when she didn't know what it involved. He wasn't worried, however. Laura knew herself, and when she found the person she was meant to be with, she would do what everyone else in love did and act like a raving idiot until she realized it.